Trust in Tomorrow

by Carole Mortimer

  Lucas shrugged. ‘Feel free to help yourself to anything you want while you’re staying here,’ he invited.

  He was waiting for something else, and they both knew it. ‘You don’t have to alter your plans because of me,’ she said huskily. ‘If you intended going out tonight then please do so, I’m just going to fall into bed and go to sleep anyway.’

  He shook his head. ‘My plans to see Jennifer were not definite ones.’

  ‘But you’ve just spent the last few days with her, haven’t you?’ Chelsea frowned at his casual dismissal of the other woman.

  His mouth tightened. ‘Chelsea—’

  ‘Sorry.’ She held her hands up in apology. ‘Please forget I said that, it’s really none of my business. But she does sound like a good friend, and I certainly don’t need the company.’

  The brown eyes narrowed in surprise. ‘Are you dismissing me?’

  She flushed. ‘No, I—Yes, perhaps I am,’ she conceded ruefully. ‘Although I didn’t mean to. But when I asked if I would be making things awkward for you by staying here you said no,’ she reminded softly.

  ‘And you aren’t. Jennifer has been a friend of mine for some time, but she has no claims on me, as I have none on her. I certainly don’t have to justify my actions to her, or to anyone else,’ he stated arrogantly.

  She was sure he didn’t either. Although the fact that the woman Jennifer had been a ‘friend’ for some time looked as if she didn’t normally mind that. ‘I’d really rather you kept your dinner date,’ she told him huskily. ‘I’m not going to be any company at all, feeling as tired as I do.’

  He seemed to hesitate, finally shrugging agreement. ‘Maybe you’re right.’

  ‘I know I am.’ She nodded, relieved that she hadn’t had to try too hard to persuade him to go out. The last thing she needed was this complete stranger hovering over her.

  He nodded. ‘I’ll leave the telephone number on the pad where I can be reached if you should need me.’

  ‘I’m not a child, Lucas,’ she told him stiffly.

  His cold gaze raked over her from head to foot. ‘I can see that,’ he grated. ‘But you have had a severe shock, and—’

  ‘And I’m not likely to run around the apartment shrieking hysterically,’ she taunted. ‘The doctor gave me some pills,’ she sighed. ‘Maybe I’ll take a couple.’

  Lucas frowned. ‘What sort of pills?’

  She shrugged. ‘Just something to relax me.’

  ‘Tranquilisers?’ his frown deepened.

  ‘I guess,’ she nodded, wondering what all the fuss was about now.

  ‘I don’t like the idea of leaving you here under the influence of drugs.’

  Angry colour flamed in her cheeks. ‘So now I’m a drug addict?’ she demanded in an exasperated voice. ‘First I’m a hooker, and now I’m a drug-addict!’

  Lucas’s mouth tightened. ‘I wasn’t—’

  ‘Two prescribed pills do not make me an addict!’ Her voice rose shrilly as she finally began to crack under the strain. ‘I just need something to relax me a little. God, my mother only died three days ago!’

  ‘I know, Chelsea. I know.’ He walked over to clasp her shoulders, looking down at her with sympathetic eyes. ‘But I think a brandy might have the same effect.’

  ‘Aren’t you frightened I might become an alcoholic?’ she asked tautly.

  His face darkened. ‘Chelsea—’

  ‘I just want to go to sleep, can’t you understand that?’ Tears blinded her as she looked up at him. ‘I need to sleep. That way I don’t have to remember,’ her voice broke.

  Lucas’s hands tightened painfully on her shoulders before he pulled her firmly into his arms, cradling her body against the firmness of his. ‘I’m sorry.’ He stroked her silvery hair. ‘I think this has all been more of a shock to me than I realised.’

  She bent her head back to look at him. ‘You?’ she frowned, blinking back the tears, unable to see this man as anything but completely controlled.

  ‘I cared for your mother too,’ he bit out tautly.

  Her mouth twisted. ‘Don’t tell me you were seeing her secretly, too?’

  Lucas released her abruptly, stepping back. ‘None of my visits to Jace were made in secret. And I hadn’t seen your mother for several years, to answer your question. Although that doesn’t mean I can’t feel saddened by her death.’

  It was a verbal rebuke, and yet Chelsea couldn’t apologise for what she had said. It wasn’t like Jace not to tell her things, and he hadn’t mentioned Lucas McAdams since they left England seven years ago.

  She nodded abruptly. ‘I’ll just get my coffee and go back to my room.’

  ‘Chelsea…’

  Her face was expressionless as she looked at him. ‘Yes?’

  Whatever he had been about to say he changed his mind, his mouth firming into a thin line as his gaze raked over her mercilessly. ‘If we’re going to be living in close proximity for some time then I suggest we establish a few ground rules,’ he told her tautly.

  She stiffened expectantly. ‘Yes?’

  ‘In the first place I would suggest that we respect each other’s privacy.’

  Colour heightened her cheeks at the rebuke. ‘And secondly?’ she prompted abruptly.

  ‘Secondly, I would appreciate your wearing a little more than you have on now outside the privacy of your bedroom,’ he bit out harshly.

  The colour deepened in her cheeks, making her look very young. ‘I’m perfectly respectable,’ she defended.

  ‘I didn’t say you weren’t,’ he dismissed. ‘And you are far from the first woman I’ve seen partially, or indeed fully, unclothed. I just happen to think it would make things a little more—acceptable.’

  ‘To whom?’

  ‘To anyone who cares to be interested,’ he came back irritably.

  She was too tired to remind him that only minutes ago he had claimed that he didn’t have to justify his actions to anyone; it was his apartment, he had the right to make any rules about their living together that he cared to. ‘I can accept that,’ she shrugged, sure this man was too ‘proper’ to leave his own bedroom without sufficient clothing, even when he was alone here. It seemed incredible that he was the man she had found so exciting in her pre-teen years; he now appeared too staid and respectable for such an interest, despite his good looks.

  ‘Good,’ he bit out. ‘Then I suggest you get your coffee and go to bed.’

  She hadn’t been spoken to in this condescending manner since she was a child—if then! Her parents had always treated her like a person in her own right, even to the extent of fully examining her feelings on the subject before they decided to get a divorce. Lucas treated her as if she didn’t have a brain of her own.

  Nevertheless, she made no demur, too tired and worn at this moment to argue her maturity. When the shock of her mother’s death receded a little it would be a different matter!

  Lucas had gone from the lounge when she returned from the kitchen, and she could only assume he had gone to his own room to prepare for his date with Jennifer. She couldn’t help wondering about the other woman. A mature woman of thirty-two, Lucas had called her on the telephone. Was that all he wanted in his arms, maturity? Chelsea didn’t doubt Jennifer would be beautiful, and that she would also be sophisticated enough to conduct an affair with Lucas, because the relationship was obviously a physical one. But would she be nice, warm, or would she possess that remoteness that made Lucas so alien to those about him, made him seem removed? Probably the two of them would never meet, although Jennifer sounded as if she would like to see her.

  ‘I forgot to give you the brandy—’ Lucas broke off awkwardly as he entered her bedroom without knocking, his mouth tightening disapprovingly as her unbelted robe showed she wore nothing beneath it. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said abruptly. ‘I had no idea… I thought you would be in bed,’ he rasped, his jaw rigid.

  ‘I just cleaned my teeth.’ She handled the situation so much more calmly than he, retying the
belt on her robe with hands that shook only slightly. And that wasn’t just because for a moment, a very brief moment, she had seen acknowledgment of her as a woman in the dark brown depths of his eyes; his own appearance was much more devastating. The black evening suit and snowy white shirt made him appear taller and broader than ever, and so handsome he took her breath away.

  ‘I see,’ he harshly acknowledged her statement. ‘I forgot to give you the brandy.’ He held up a glass with about an inch measure in it. ‘This should help you sleep.’

  Her eyes widened. ‘That much should knock me out!’ she derided. ‘Believe it or not, I rarely, if ever, touch alcohol.’

  His expression darkened. ‘Chelsea—’

  ‘Thank you for the brandy,’ she hastily interrupted the reprimand she had invited by her mockery. ‘I’ll drink it in a moment.’

  ‘You haven’t taken the tablets yet?’

  Her mouth tightened; did he think she was completely stupid! ‘No.’

  ‘Good,’ he nodded curtly, holding out the glass to her with a long, lean hand.

  Chelsea took it with unsteady fingers, feeling angered by this further display of arrogant authority, wishing Jace had never sent her here, although understanding the reason that he had. But that didn’t make Lucas’s behaviour any easier to bear. ‘Thanks,’ she told him abruptly. ‘And I think perhaps we ought to establish another ground rule.’ Her head was back defiantly, ‘I won’t walk into your bedroom without first knocking if you won’t walk into mine.’

  A dark hue coloured his lean cheeks. ‘I wasn’t thinking when I did that, it won’t happen again.’

  She instantly felt contrite for being rude when he had offered her his hospitality. ‘I’m sorry,’ she sighed. ‘It seems Jace has put us both in an awkward position by imposing on you in this way.’

  ‘When you’re family it isn’t an imposition,’ he replied in a preoccupied voice.

  ‘Family…?’ she frowned. ‘I would hardly say your friendship with Jace makes me that.’

  Lucas straightened, nothing preoccupied about him now. ‘I’ve known you almost from the moment you were born, I feel like your uncle,’ he dismissed abruptly.

  ‘Feeling like one and actually being one are two different things,’ she snapped, chagrined that he still continued to treat her like a child. He had a shock coming to him when she was feeling more like herself; she didn’t always wear the casually youthful clothing she had arrived in, could be sophisticated herself when she needed to be, or wanted to be. And Lucas’s attitude was making her want to be more and more.

  Lucas’s expression was guarded as he looked at her. ‘Nevertheless, that’s what I feel like,’ he insisted coldly. ‘Are you sure you’re going to be all right while I’m out?’ he abruptly closed the subject.

  ‘I’ll be fine,’ she nodded.

  ‘I won’t be too late,’ he told her as he walked to the door, the gold cufflinks gleaming brightly at his wrists as his hand came up to open it.

  ‘Don’t hurry back on my account,’ she shrugged.

  ‘I won’t,’ he snapped.

  Chelsea sighed as he took offence at her words. ‘Lucas…’

  ‘Yes?’ his eyes were narrowed.

  ‘I—I—Oh God!’ Her control finally crumpled, her legs giving out weakly beneath her as she fell to the carpeted floor, her face buried in her hands as tears streamed down her cheeks.

  She tried to resist the strong arms that pulled her to her feet, but Lucas was remorseless in his intent, holding her tightly against the hardness of his chest as deep shudders wracked her body as she continued to cry. She cried until she had no more tears left to cry, loud agonised sobs as the pain of losing her mother ripped through her. And as she cried Lucas just continued to hold her, not saying a single word, just supporting her in his strong arms.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she gulped at last, raising her head to see with dismay the huge damp patch she had made on his jacket and shirt, the black bow-tie at his throat looking slightly limp too. ‘Oh God, look what I’ve done,’ she groaned, brushing down the damp material.

  ‘Leave it,’ Lucas instructed curtly.

  ‘But I’ve messed up your—’

  ‘I said leave it, Chelsea.’ He grasped her arms, holding her in front of him. ‘Do you think I care about being slightly damp?’

  A wan smile twisted her mouth. ‘A lot damp,’ she corrected.

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ he dismissed. ‘I have other suits.’

  ‘That isn’t the point—’

  ‘I agree,’ he bit out tightly. ‘It isn’t.’ He held her gaze with steady intensity.

  Her cheeks coloured with embarrassment as she avoided that gaze. To have emotionally broken down in the presence of a man she no longer knew seemed to her the height of embarrassment, to be verbally made aware of it, no matter how well intentioned, was unacceptable to her at this moment. ‘I’ve kept you long enough,’ she dismissed flatly.

  Lucas looked at her searchingly for several long minutes before nodding abruptly. ‘I’ll leave you to rest. Mrs Harvey will be here at seven-thirty in the morning; she’ll get your breakfast for you whenever you care to get up. Take your time, there’s no rush.’

  ‘I don’t want to be any trouble.’

  ‘You won’t be,’ he assured her arrogantly. ‘Camilla stays with me for weeks at a time when she’s working in London.’

  ‘It isn’t the same,’ Chelsea mumbled, wishing he could see and understand that. Or maybe he did, and just ignored the fact. And she didn’t have the strength to pursue it after her bout of crying, just wanting to fall into bed.

  Lucas seemed to guess her plight, going to the door. ‘If you need me during the night I’m just across the hall from here. Don’t hesitate,’ he added sternly. ‘You won’t be disturbing me, I’m a very light sleeper,’ he told her before he left.

  And after already crying all over him once tonight she had no intention of disturbing his sleep, not for any reason. She had coped with her grief in her own way so far, and she didn’t intend to change that.

  Which made the fact that she had broken down in front of Lucas in the way she had all the more surprising. She hadn’t cried once since the nightmare began, not when she found her mother, and not when they told her she was dead either. She couldn’t think what had prompted her to collapse in front of Lucas of all people; he wasn’t exactly an emotional man himself. Whatever the reason for her breakdown she didn’t intend letting it happen again.

  * * *

  The harsh November rain was still falling against the window when she woke the next morning, completely disorientated until she remembered she was in Lucas’s apartment, in his spare bedroom. And with that realisation came the renewed pain of her mother’s death.

  She had drunk the brandy Lucas gave her the night before, had miraculously fallen asleep almost immediately she got into bed. The clock on the bedside table told her it was nine-thirty; she had almost slept the clock round!

  Lucas had no doubt already left for the plush office Camilla had told her he had somewhere in town, and the invaluable Mrs Harvey would be in the apartment. Chelsea fleetingly wondered what he had told his housekeeper about her, the truth would be preferable as far as she was concerned. Although what little she had learnt about Lucas the evening before she doubted he felt he had to explain his actions, or those of his guests, to a mere employee.

  It wasn’t until she threw back the bedclothes to go through to the bathroom that she gasped her dismay. She was wearing a black silk pyjama jacket that hadn’t been there when she fell into bed the evening before! And it could only belong to one person, Lucas! It was much too big for her slender frame, hung precariously off one shoulder, the sleeves turned back to accommodate her shorter arms, the length of it reaching almost down to her knees. And it smelt vaguely of the elusive aftershave Lucas had worn the evening before.

  She had been sleepwalking in the nude!

  There could be no other explanation for her to wake up in Lucas’
s pyjama jacket. She had often walked in her sleep when she was a child, but much less so now that she was older, and it hadn’t really mattered that she did when there was just her mother and herself at home.

  That the trauma of the last few days had brought on one of the rare occasions when it happened she had no doubt. And she blushed with embarrassment at the thought of Lucas having to cover her nakedness with his own pyjama jacket before guiding her back to bed. Whatever must he think of her! More to the point, how was she supposed to face him again after this? He might, as he said, have seen plenty of other women unclothed, but the circumstances of him seeing her made her writhe with embarrassment.

  And uninvited came the question, had he liked what he had unwittingly seen?

  It was a provocative thought, and one that she regretted as soon as it came into her mind. It put their relationship on too personal a level, and it was going to be difficult enough to maintain the tenuous link they had now without any added complications, such as her possibly rekindling the attraction she had once felt for him.

  Nevertheless, the colour in her cheeks refused to recede as she showered and dressed, and she could only hope that Lucas had indeed left for the day; she had no idea what sort of hours lawyers kept in England.

  A glance out of her bedroom window showed her that the central heating in the apartment was deceiving, that it was still very cold and wet, so she put on fitted blue trousers and a designer blouse in a beautiful rust colour. The wealth and publicity of her father’s career may have helped to destroy her parents’ marriage, it had also given Chelsea a taste for beautiful clothing that had always been indulged. She had been limited as to the amount of clothing she could bring with her on this trip, had had little inclination for packing, but at home she had a wardrobe full of designer-label clothing. A spoilt brat, she thought with a grimace. Oh well, she was what she was.

  Her long hair was still slightly damp from her shower, but she knew from experience that the silvery fine hair would soon dry; its long silver length made a startling contrast to the rust colour of her blouse. Her eyes were still shadowed by grief, but at least the sleep seemed to have given her back some of her usual confidence, the ability to cope, and she knew that during the weeks and months that were to follow she would need every ounce of that confidence.